Getting It Out There
by royal-chandler
Summary: The five times Jim wanted to tell Bones he loves him and the one time that he did. SLASH.


Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. No copyright infringement intended.

\just another night

When Bones steps away from Jim to punch in the code for their shared room, Jim finds it hard not to fall. He sways a bit before Bones' arm curves around his midsection once again, stabilizing him and pulling him along.

Once inside, Bones leads Jim to his bed and lets him drop onto it. Jim groans at the satisfaction of finally having his ass fall onto a surface that doesn't feel like concrete. He settles on his right side, his head cushioned by his Starfleet-issue pillow, and watches with bleary eyes as Bones maneuvers in their small quarters, reaching under his own bed with busy hands. "Bones," Jim says. But his lopsided grin is missed by his best friend.

A second later, Bones turns to him with a look that is stern with a side of worried. Jim frowns and wishes that he wasn't such a screw-up. The alcohol in his system is nice and pain-numbing but never quite has the industrial strength needed to counter the regret that always builds when Bones stares at him with that expression. No amount of liquor stands a chance against disappointment that knocks the wind out of him _every_ time.

Jim opens his mouth to apologize but stumbles over words that aren't right and would understate all that he wants to say. "I…" comes out meek and overused. _I'm sorry_ seems archaic, _I'll never do it again_ is an unfortunate lie, and _It wasn't my fault_ doesn't really erase all that's transpired. Deciding to forget his go-to drop-down menu, Jim settles for silence and snaps his mouth shut. He can only hope that doing so will stop the nausea that always accompanies this particular deep regret.

Bones grabs his tricorder from his bedside table and heads over to Jim with it and his trusted medical kit. "Just stay still and don't go to sleep. You might have a concussion, and I need to check for fractures." The doctor tries to make the rest seem like it's not a big deal, but Jim knows better. "'m pretty sure I heard something crack when the blue one knocked you on your ass."

Moments later, Jim is oddly comforted by the whirr of the tricorder as Bone scans him. He listens to its soothing hum as he tries to keep sleep and other dangerous shit at bay. He also finds solace by focusing on Bones' face-- It's not bad to look at. Jim could find worse distractions. Admiring his friend's pursed lips and concentration makes him feel warm, like his mother's hot chocolate would during snowy blizzards in Iowa. The feeling is home and spreads like some kind of cozy cheer, welcomed everywhere. A lot like love.

He gazes at Bones while he processes this personal revelation. It's not some anvil and it doesn't really scare him; it's just there in front of him and he finally realizes why the earth is round and all of that other sentimental stuff that holovids thrive on. Bones lets out one of his usual curses and Jim thinks _yeah, this makes sense now_.

Bones catches him staring and does that perfect brow thing. "What?"

"I—" Has Bones' accent always been so much like John Wayne's? Well, fuck. The hot chocolate is searing now, burns too hot on his tongue and the ceramic mug is so heated that it drops from his palms and breaks.

Jim peers at Bones sadly as he slips away from home. "Thanks."

\i'm my own man now

"Starfleet wouldn't take her back from me, would they?" Jim wonders aloud from his spot at the docking station. The view of Starfleet engineers making repairs on _his_ starship is mesmerizing.

Bones chuckles beside him. "I'm critical of a lot of their 'procedures', but even I have to say that that would be beneath them." Bones looks at Jim with a side-glance, his voice growing serious. "They made the right choice, Jim. She was built for you."

The newly-named captain turns toward his best friend with a grin. "Yeah? You're not just saying that?" He doesn't know why he asks, but for some reason it's imperative that Bones agrees. That Bones is behind this, behind him.

"No, you idiot," Bones says, smiling in a way that Jim only gets to see when they're alone, a smile he never takes for granted. "Have you ever known me to just say things?"

It's less of a question that needs a response and more of a reminder that sounds similar to _I believe in you. Stop questioning me because unlike them, I'll always be here for you, and I couldn't be any more proud. _Bones doesn't really speak these phrases aloud but Jim's learned to read his eyes and the lines of his face. He knows the subtext and couldn't feel more grateful.

Jim smirks with mischief, eyes twinkling in the night like the stars above them. "So, you ready to brave disease and danger wrapped up in darkness and silence?"

"Oh, God."

"Come on, Bones."

Bones rolls his eyes. "Jim, you don't know that they'll pick me. I snuck you onto a starship."

Jim shrugs the comment off as if he's made of Teflon. "And they gave me said starship. There's no way that they won't pick you. You're the best medical officer in the field, and bias aside, you're the best man I've ever known. Don't waste all of your confidence on me."  
He stresses the last line with the authority suited for a leader of hundreds.

Bones is taken aback by the blunt words and doesn't answer until a few beats later. "Just don't go counting your staff before they get there, alright?" Then he lets out a sigh that makes him appear older than his age.

Jim isn't fond of how somber his tone is but can't do much about it, seeing as how he hasn't perfected the method for deal with an unsure Bones. Solidity crumbles and folds like a cheap slut when doubt appears, and doubt appears when Bones isn't being his natural Bonesy self. Jim needs Bones out there with him, can't imagine the next five years without Bones' special moods and sardonic comments. Honestly can't imagine his life without Leonard H. McCoy, and doesn't want to. Nothing's worth getting without Bones there.

Ever since defeating Nero and destroying the Narada, Jim has been looking at life in a whole new light. And whenever he sets his sights on Bones, the light becomes blinding and there's some angelic chorus in the background dropping hints that are impossible to ignore. He had always cared for Bones, had always been so goddamn thankful and lucky to have him around to encourage Jim and not allow him to fuck up too badly; Bones had always told him that he, James T. Kirk, would do great things. When Bones had gone on those particular lectures, Jim had given in to faith.

It had taken the death of too many to make Jim realize what that devotion meant to him. No way could all that end up in fucking vain.

"Bones, I…" Jim tries, suddenly overwhelmed by butterflies in his stomach; they're really more like a stampede of rhinos, so fast and intense that it makes him stupid with affection.

Bones waits for more, staring at Jim expectantly. Jim swallows when a slight wind catches Bone's hair and blows it just so. Voice louder than necessary, he stutters, "I--I have to go meet with Pike about...stuff."

"Then go," Bone replies. The laugh that comes out of him is a wonderful rumble and Jim feels inner!Jim fall hard against pavement. Then that one-of-a-kind smile graces his best friend's lips once more and inner!Jim gets whiplash because he's now about 30,000 miles in the air and on a cloud labeled 'nine.'

He gathers himself, nods, and turns on his heel, looking back over his shoulder to call out, "I'll put in a good word for ya!"

\no contest

Technology has come far in the last few centuries but has not conquered all of medicine's mysteries; some continue to boggle scientists and physicians alike. Because of this, the Enterprise is hosting a gala in the Mess Hall, sponsoring the fight against heart disease. They've invited a plethora of species and corporate higher-ups to take temporary residence on the most notable starship in 'Fleet history.

With great approval, Jim surveys the vast crowd from a secluded corner. "Nice turn out."

Bones scoffs. "Yes, we'll fight heart disease by having dessert tables so loaded with sugar it could put everyone here in a diabetic coma. Lessen the chance of one disease in favor of another. Wonder as to who came up with _that_ insipid idea?"

Jim wheels his head around to face the sarcastic Bones, a wide smile illuminating his face. "We've got plenty of champagne to balance it out. I hear that alcohol's good for the heart. About time you showed up, by the way. I almost conceded to the thought that you wouldn't come. I know how much you hate these events."

He takes in the sight of Bones in his Sunday best. Slowly and methodically (eyesex _is_ a finesse), he admires the charcoal-colored suit and deep red tie that brilliantly contrast the white dress shirt Bones had clearly spent a great deal of time flattening.

Jim's never seen anything so goddamn fine. He resists the strong urge to whistle. "You clean up nice."

Consequently, Bones messes with the tie, making it crooked. "Glad you appreciate it."

Licking his lips, Jim crowds Bones' space and fixes puts the tie back to rights. His hands splay against the broad chest and linger longer than friendly hands should. "I most certainly do. Just be on your best behavior…" He drops his voice a few decibels and it becomes huskier, doesn't let go of Bones' gaze. "…and I'll make sure to pay you in kind."

He's rewarded when color rises in Bones' cheeks.

"Don't start something you can't finish, kid," Bones mildly chides. He checks to make sure that they don't have an audience prior to placing his own hands on Jim's waist and knuckling the hard muscles under the clothes that stand between them.

With a wicked wink, Jim moves his hand downward a few inches and settles on Bones' impressive hard-on. "Looks like one of us is almost there. You want to say that again?"

"You're a tease," Bones whispers, rocking his hips to Jim's. Fits like a jigsaw puzzle.

Jim squeezes and smiles devilishly. "And you love it, just like I love—"

"The captain is straight down that way," echoes someone--who sounds very similar to Lt. Uhura--from several yards away but within earshot.

Jim jumps away from Bones, who has the nerve to look smug. "Oh, shut up."

Later, when the leader of a neutral, non-federation planet questions his flustered state, Jim chalks it up to performance anxiety in regards to the speech he'll be giving later that evening.

\breaks slowly with you

None one knows that the color purple is one of Jim's greatest fears. It's so out there that no one would possibly guess, except for maybe some Vulcan or other telepathic alien. However, when Jim thinks of purple, he envisions hot summers and the dark, murky waters that make up a lake in Iowa. Waters so terrifying that they drown like tar and strangle like death, enveloping whatever they manages to reach with their slow creep.

One night in quarters suited for a king but sheltering a lost man, Jim writhes in heavy sheets and struggles to free himself from a fretful dream.

He imagines himself running through cornfields on a hot August night, his bare feet pierced by glass that soon morphs into dry weeds. Barely able to breathe, he swiftly dodges stalks and ducks between the plants packing some stranger's farm.

He can hear the angry shouts that are directed at him from behind and in spite of tired limbs and torching lungs, he races faster. He has to get away. He prays for the yelling to stop, prays that he'll go deaf.

A fence comes into view under the fair moonlight and Jim slows. For one second he's hesitant because if he does this there's no turning back; he's dead if he stays and a fate worse than death awaits him if he goes back. Raising a timid hand to the fencing, Jim winces at the prick of barbed wire.

"You get back here, boy," a man bellows across the field, and a new momentum fills a young Jim. He ignores the blood, sweat, tears and utter pain as he climbs the fence and drops over.

He falls feet first into a boiling lake that immediately melts his skin, burning like liquid fire. He wants to scream but he knows that Frank is near so he stifles the instinct; it takes his whole soul to do so but every whipping, broken bottle and tear he saw his mother shed keep him strong. The noises of the outside world soon dwindle into nothing and Jim thanks God that he's dying this way, that his stepfather doesn't get the pleasure of seeing him like this. The foreign sea dwarfing him is much better than how he had always pictured himself dying-- incineration in space. His mother's bright blue eyes and beautiful smile appear behind his eyelids before he lets unconsciousness sweep over him.

Like the curse that keeps on giving, young Jim wakes up hours later alone in the dark and gets sick in the tall grass. After he's done emptying the acid from his stomach, he stills, absolutely petrified to even blink. Frank is permanently set in the back of his mind.

He looks down at the water that glints violet when the moon's light touches upon it, and he feels like vomiting again so he does.

A tight grip clenches his wrist and he shouts in protest.

"Jim, Jim, it's me." The grips loosens and a soft hand curves against his cheeks, fingers wrapping into the wet hair at the nape of his neck. "You're okay, I'm right here. It's me, Bones."

_Bones… _

The captain of the Enterprise wakes up with a tear-stained face. His eyes are wild as he searches the pitch black night. "Bones? Where are you?" His voice cracks in a watery mouth and his hands seek desperately around him, needing.

"Lights, fifty percent."

Bones comes blurrily into view, face ashen with dread and worry. Jim unceremoniously wraps his arms around his lover, his friend, his guardian, and sobs into Bones' nightshirt, unashamed and raw. "Bones, Bones, Bones…don't leave me, please."

"I won't, Jim," is whispered harshly into his ear and Bones' holds him onto him tightly, like he has no plans to ever let go.

Jim senses a kiss on his temple and he chokes harder, the inability to speak paralyzing him.

In the morning, Jim explains the toxic waste dump and purple and Frank for the first and last time. He yearns to tell Bones that he loves him more than anything but the nightmare still clenches at his insides, including his heart, like venom. It's a poison that inhabits his mind and installs deep-set reservations, that refuses to let him exploit himself anymore than he already has.

\is this really mine?

In the first year of the five year mission, the crew gets shore leave around Christmas time, two full weeks on Earth. Jim doesn't really have anywhere that he wants to go, so he leaves the travel plans up to Bones. Their shuttle touches down in San Francisco three days before the holiday and Jim finds himself in Georgia a day later.

Bones' planning skills prove to be exceptionally good because the doctor manages to convince his ex-wife to let their daughter spend Christmas with him and Bones at the McCoy residence in Savannah. Just the three of them isolated from the rest of the world in a big, empty manor. It sounds wonderful to Jim.

It turns out that Joanna McCoy is every bit her father, minus the grumpy attitude and sarcasm. Jim ultimately finds her to be refreshing and fun. When he had first found out that he'd be meeting Bones' offspring, he'd gotten jittery and nervous, intimidated by the thought of a five-year old girl. He'd seen her on comm links but up close and personal was a whole different playing field. Yet the second he spotted the pint-sized child on the runway in a pink dress with shy green eyes and long, curly hair pulled into pigtails, he knew that it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Now she's got a piece of Jim's heart in her pocket that she'll keep forever.

Jim offers her piggy-back rides every hour and replicates her rocky road ice-cream constantly. She has her Uncle Jim wrapped her little finger without even trying. Bones rolls his eyes and warns Jim that he's spoiling her, that she'll be expecting the doting every time she sees him. Jim assures Bones that as long as he is in her life, that's what she'll be getting.

Christmas morning rolls around sooner than any of them had expected and Joanna pounces on Jim and Bones before they have a chance to wake up and prevent her from being scarred for life. Fortunately, they slept in clothes the previous night, and Joanna seems to have no qualms about their sleeping habits. She simply plants herself in between the two and pokes at their eyes.

"Daddy, wake up!" She thumps at Bones' chest with a tiny fist then does the same to Jim, clutching his night shirt in her right hand and rapping against his abdominals. "Wake up! Time for presents!"

Jim is the first to become coherent; Bones continues to snore into his pillow. Jim can't help but smile at the sight of Joanna's disheveled hair. "What's up, Jo?"

She looks at him as if he has grown three heads, pulling off 'completely indignant' pretty well with an ousted bottom lip. "We have to open presents now!"

A frown adorns Jim's features, not wanting to let her down or disappoint her. "We have to wait for your dad to wake up, sweetheart."

She actually growls at this, and it's quite amazing how much like her father she is. A combination of thumps and tiny slaps are directed at Bones until he wakes. When he glares at Jim, the captain raises his hands in innocence. "It was all her." He bares a proud grin. "She's feisty."

After much hurrying, fifteen minutes later the three end up in the living room fifteen, situated around the Christmas tree. Joanna has opened up her presents from her mother and father, so she's looking at Jim impatiently, her arms outstretched.

Jim has a present for her but is afraid to let her have it. Her parents had gotten her meaningful gifts that obviously had a lot of thought put into them. Jim is certain that his won't measure up. However, he can't exactly fool her, and definitely doesn't want her to think that he didn't get her anything, so he reaches underneath the tree and brings out a thin box with shiny, silver wrapping. He hands it to her and figures that if she doesn't like it, he can blame it on Bones for the short notice.

He watches with attentive eyes as she rips through the wrapping and opens the box with fast hands-- The girl could have a career in engineering when she grows up. She tilts her head quizzically at the gift and Jim's heart breaks a little bit. He's premature, though, because she then launches herself into his lap and throws her arms around his neck. "You are?" she asks in a very girlish manner, eyes as big as saucers.

"Are what?" Bones questions, thoroughly confused. He reaches into the box that Joanna discarded in favor of giving Jim a bear hug, and pulls a tiny pink shirt from the box. Across the front of it, it reads 'CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK IS MY BIGGEST FAN' in a vivid blue font.

Joanna's smile is missing a few teeth but to Jim it's everything as she exclaims, "Thank you!" She presses a wet kiss to his cheek and cuddles closer to him.

He must have _some_ paternal fiber in his body, because he returns the affection with the same amount of genuine, unconditional appreciation. He catches Bones' gaze over the bundle of Joanna in his lap but can't express how thankful he is for all of this. He's at a loss for words because at that moment _right_, _perfect_ and _couldn't be any better_ are understatements of the year and beyond. So he hopes that the adoration he sees on Bones' face is showing on his own.

\better at a hush

The moment Bones walks into their room, Jim can almost feel the atmosphere become sardonic and heavy, an evident indicator that the doctor's day had been complete shit. Gamma shift is just starting to wane by the looks of the chronometer so Jim knows that it's bad when Bones has left the sickbay before he was supposed to punch out.

The bed gives way to McCoy's weight as he drops to his side of the mattress. Jim can tell that he is trying to be quiet but they both know that the ever-present Captain is hardly a heavy sleeper.

After boots and trousers, McCoy strips out of his tunic and undershirt. He then proceeds to slip under the comforter, his back fitting to Jim's chest. There's tension in the taut muscles of the doctor's body, exhaustion and weariness rolling off of him in dull waves. Behind him, Jim frowns sympathetically before pulling his lover that extra centimeter closer, that centimeter that seems to make all the difference. "You alright?"

Jim's voice is soft as the pads of his fingers brush over Bones' chest, the sweep lulling with reassuring strokes, placating over Bones' heart.

Bones sighs and it's like a mountain relieving of its burden, hardened ice and plentiful rock dismissed. His response is stuck somewhere between a mumble and growl, "Been better."

Pressing his lips to a strong shoulder, Jim says, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it," Bones says, downsizing whatever fatigue stresses him. Jim knows better though and wraps his arms around Bones', who in return tangles his own limbs with Jim's. He does this a lot, finds it grounding. "Go to sleep. You've got Alpha tomorrow, can't afford to be babying me like some sort of infant."

A low laugh later, Jim threads his fingers through Bones' hair. He somehow manages to measure the movements in time with his best friend's exhales. Somehow. "I love you, you know that?"

Bones snorts, more of a reflex to Jim's sappiness than anything else. However there's an upturn at his mouth that Jim can't see. He squeezes a hand that's nearby, allows himself to relax, "I love you too, Jim."

One beat. Two beats.

"Love you more."

"Jim…"

"Well—"

"Jim—"

"Right, I know. Sleep."

The End


End file.
